8 years of pounding pays off for Gore

Atlanta — Frank Gore stood in the middle of the Georgia Dome field, moments removed from the biggest victory of his life.

“That’s how we fight!” he yelled, as a mob of teammates celebrated around him. “That’s how we fight!”

Gore wandered through the madness alone, staring into the stands.

You could see eight years of frustration melting away from the stocky running back as he walked.Eight long, hard years …

Gore was the difference for the 49ers in their 28-24 win over Atlanta in the NFC Championship Game.

It wasn’t so much the amount of yardage he gained this particular Sunday in Atlanta: 90 yards on 21 carries. It was more the determination and the tone. As usual, Gore earned his yardage in the heaviest traffic, running straight up the middle. He made a Falcons team determined to stop Colin Kaepernick pay.

And with two second-half touchdowns, Gore ensured his team would make it to New Orleans, where it will face the Baltimore Ravens in two weeks.

As the celebration continued in Atlanta, Gore was summoned to the big stage.

He made his way across the field, heading toward the makeshift television studio where Terry and Jimmy and Michael and Howie were waiting. The massive Georgia Dome was quickly emptying, leaving a few die-hard 49ers fans who had made the pilgrimage to see their team prevail.

As Gore approached the raised platform, the chant went up from the stands, “Frank! Frank! Frank!”

The sweat was still streaming off his face as he raised both arms and soaked in the love…

There’s a certain justice in Gore getting to the Super Bowl. The third-round draft pick from 2005 has earned the trip, 1 yard at a time. He overcame injuries to both knees at the University of Miami. He endured Erickson and Nolan and Singletary, without quarrel. He is the workingman’s running back, gaining ground more so with determination than flair. His pound-it-out mentality has made him a huge favorite of owners and coaches and fans alike.

The man has quietly put together a career that could send him to Canton. That final step into greatness would receive a huge boost with a big Super Bowl performance.

Just two weeks ago, on a day the baseball world denied the likes of Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens to its hallowed Hall, Gore was sitting in front of his locker at the team’s Santa Clara practice facility, discussing the game’s greats with reporters.

“You think I’d have a chance?” he asked. Maybe if you got to 10,000 yards, a reporter answered. “Really? Hmmm.”

He has about only 1,200 yards to get there.

The crowd behind the Fox television crew was going wild. One particularly rabid fan was dangling a young boy over the railing, trying to get him onto the field.

The boy was Gore’s son, “Little Frank.”

As soon as his feet hit the ground, the 10-year-old scampered up to his dad, who was sitting before the cameras.

There was a quick hug. Big Frank still looked a little dazed, maybe from joy, maybe from the pounding he takes during a game. His son stood by his side, frozen in the lights.

Gore’s cousin, Daphne Best, had driven nine hours from Miami to see the game. She was the one who got the younger Gore over the wall and onto the field.

As Gore Sr. gave his interview, Best could be heard yelling, “That’s for her, Frank. That’s for Momma.”

Lizzie Gore, Frank’s mom, died during his third year in the league.

Best pointed to the sky in tribute to Lizzie. Then she looked down and yelled: “We’re going to the Super Bowl, mister!”

Garrison Hearst knows a little about running backs.

The man gained 7,966 yards over his 10-year NFL career, mostly with San Francisco.

When asked to compare Gore to any other backs he’d seen, Hearst hesitated and then quit. “He doesn’t really run like anyone else.”

“He’s got his own style,” Hearst continued. “A unique style, but not unique. In the end, it’s hard-nosed running. That’s what he does.”

He runs sideways, bent over, head down, backward and forward. Anything to advance. And he pays a steep price. One look at Gore’s arms and legs after a game will bear witness to that fact. A case can be made that the toughest man on any team is the tailback. It’s constant abuse, whether he has the ball or not.

Imagine running like that for eight years.

As Gore made his way back across the field, he draped his arm around Little Frank’s shoulders.

The remaining 49er Faithful were still chanting his name and yelling, “We want six!”

Gore didn’t seem to hear them. He looked down at his son and smiled.

Into the tunnel and toward the locker room. Big Frank had promised his son a visit to the inner sanctum if the 49ers won. And Dad delivered.

As they made their way off the carpet, a figure stood in the shadows. “Hey 21! That’s pretty good stuff.”